Leave the bar...

You tire of this place and leave, the doors sliding open, an electronic voice announcing, "Thank you for your stay" in some futuristic form of Icelandic.

It is drizzling outside, the droplets of water landing on you seemingly pathetic though quickly drowning your clothes. Sodden on the metal pavement outside the tavern, which you soon learn is called Droterriks, you peer through the curtain of thin rain at the dancing white and yellow lights of New Helsinki. Predominately comprised of short though imposing glass skyscrapers, New Helsinki in the evening shimmers with ethereal light under the thick dark sky.

A hovering automobile hums by, its windows blacked out, and in the distance you hear the thrum and giggles of parties. A digital clock hovers out from across a building, telling you its nearly midnight.

Now: